A Day Out In Diagon
by DeiStarr
Summary: Draco Malfoy is out with his two year old son, Scorpius, shopping in Diagon Alley. He runs into none other than Harry Potter, out with his sons. Just a fluffy fic showing them catching up, and making eyes at each other. COMPLETE slash. Harry/Draco
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** A Day Out In Diagon

**Disclaimer:** I like bribing J. 's characters over to the dark side with cookies. Doesn't make them mine. I'm just a kidnapper.

**Rating:** T or PG

**Pairing:** Draco/Harry

**Warnings:** Uhm, one guy checks out another guy's arse? Seriously, it's tame.

**Summary:** Draco Malfoy is out with his two year old son, Scorpius, shopping in Diagon Alley. He runs into none other than Harry Potter, out with his sons. Just a fluffy fic showing them catching up, and making eyes at each other.

**A/N: **This was a request by Elena Gilbert, which was difficult to do in the limited length I had allotted to it. I hope she likes it! :) Please read and review!

* * *

Draco gazed in the window of Quality Quidditch Supplies and frowned. He debated going into the store to look for a starter broom for Scorpius, but shouldn't such a thing wait until Scorpius was not with him? Granted, at two years old Scorpius was undoubtedly too young to understand, but it was the principle of the thing.

He shifted, moving Scorpius to his other arm. They were dressed in matching robes of a midnight blue, with silver trousers and black dragonhide boots and thick black cloaks trimmed with silver Nundu fur. Scorpius looked like a miniature version of himself, with perfectly placed blond hair, mercurial grey eyes, and finely chiseled features. Pointy, some might say, but that was just being uncharitable. He thought about the upcoming Holiday and decided that he needed to make Christmas this year extra special.

Merlin knew he wanted to be as different as possible from Astoria. After she ran off to be with her French paramour she'd effectively dropped out of Scorpius' life, involved only to the extent of sending him birthday and Christmas presents by mail that were as thoughtless as they were age-inappropriate. This year she'd sent him a new broom – one made for a wizard twice his age and size.

Scorpius tugged at his hair, and he frowned again, muttering, "Ouch!" Scorpius just laughed and patted his cheeks, and Draco's gaze softened, his expression curving into a rare smile. Well, not so rare these days. Scorpius made sure of that. He was the light of Draco's life.

"Do you want hot chocolate, Scorpius?" he asked, smiling indulgently as the little boy shrieked his approval.

He turned to leave for Fortesque's, only to bump into a small someone else who was running along, and nearly knock them both over into a snowbank. He righted himself, and scowled.

"Watch where you're going! Can't you see I'm holding a child?" He turned round to glare at whoever had bumped into him.

"I'm sorry," came a familiar voice. "I've got two of my own, you see, and James is just a little too rowdy. Apologize to the man, James."

"'M sorry," said the tyke who'd nearly knocked him over. He gave Draco a winning smile. "I was just e'cited cause we're gonna get me a new broom!" He jumped up and down in place, looking delighted. "My old one's too small now!" Everything he said seemed to be shouted excitedly. But Draco barely noticed.

"Potter?" he asked, a trifle disbelieving.

Potter gave him a sheepish smile. He was wearing a glamour, but once Draco recognized his voice and looked closer, he could see right through it. He was holding a small boy who appeared to be every bit his doppelganger, from what Draco could tell, just as Scorpius was his. "Hullo, Malfoy," he offered with a grin.

He was incredibly fit, Draco noticed absently. His dark hair was as unruly as ever, but it had that just-shagged quality to it that made it sexy rather than disorderly. His eyes were a luminous green, and piercing. He was taller than he'd been the last time Draco saw him, though he stood a good half a foot below Draco's height of just over six feet. He was muscular, more so than Draco, and since he was dressed in muggle clothes, the lines of his body were more apparent than they would be hidden under robes. Despite the snow, he was dressed in a simple hunter green jumper and washed out blue jeans, with a cloak draped half-on, half-off his solid form. The jeans showed off Potter's arse to great advantage, Draco couldn't help noticing.

Fortunately his children were dressed better for the weather, wearing muggle coats, hats, and gloves. Their noses and cheeks were brilliantly red.

Draco was disconcerted. Potter was smiling at him. Smiling. As if they were friends. It had been ten years since the war, but still. They had never been friends. Sure, Draco had refused to identify him that time in the Manor, and Potter had saved him from Fiendfyre, returned his wand, testified at his trial and kept him out of prison; but that didn't make them friends. Or did it? They had parted on friendly enough terms, after a rather pleasant conversation when Potter returned his wand. But they hadn't spoken in ten years; did most people not speak to friends for ten years?

"I see your children are as unruly as you yourself were when you were young," he sneered, falling back on his old habits for comfort's sake.

Potter narrowed his eyes and the smile disappeared. "Right, well, we'd better get going. We're going to buy James a new broom, since he doesn't fit on his old one anymore."

"Wait, Potter," Draco was already regretting his sneer at his old nemesis. He put a hand on Potter's arm, stopping him. Potter gave him an impatient sigh.

"What is it, Malfoy?"

"I have a broom you could use. Brand new; top of the line. Scorpius' mother sent it for him, but it's made for a four year old, about your older boy's age," he gestured. "So Scorpius can't use it. And it would do no good keeping it for him; it'll be horribly outdated in a couple of years and I might as well just buy him a new one then. What do you say, Potter?"

Potter's eyes opened wide in surprise, then narrowed in suspicion. "Why would you do that, Malfoy?"

Draco sighed. "Because the broom does no one any good if I keep it, and I can't return it. Besides, Potter, I owe you." That admission stung, but Draco made it anyway. For some reason, he didn't want Potter to leave.

Potter hesitated. "At least let me pay you for the broom," he offered.

Draco shook his head. "Bring your boys over to fly with Scorpius sometime and we'll call it even," he suggested. "He could use a friend his age."

Potter grinned again. "Why Malfoy," he said teasingly. "Are you suggesting a Malfoy should be friends with a Potter?"

"I wasn't the one who refused to accept a hand offered in friendship," pointed out Draco. The old wound still stung, a little. Potter flinched.

"Well, you reminded me of my cousin Dudley when we met in Madam Malkin's," he said and Draco flinched.  
Rita Skeeter had done an expose' on Potter a few years back, digging up all the sordid details of his childhood and the abuse he suffered. The Prophet ran the saga for a week, then recycled the facts for months, as did every other published magazine or newspaper in the country – with the notable exception of the Quibbler, which only ran an interview with Potter giving his statement about the whole affair.

Draco, and the wizarding world at large, had been shocked and outraged to discover the details of the childhood home life of their hero, and the conditions he'd grown up under. There was much speculation that there was more that even Skeeter hadn't been able to unearth. Being compared to Harry's cousin stung.

"Then on the train," continued Potter, "You were mean to Ron, who was only the second friend I'd ever made. So I decided I didn't like you." He shrugged. "I've often wondered what would have happened if I had handled that a little more diplomatically."  
Draco stared. The idea that Potter might feel any kind of regret about refusing his hand had never occurred to him. He found it warmed him, considerably.

"I was just about to take Scorpius out to Fortesque's for some hot chocolate," he said. "Care to join us?"

Potter smiled broadly. "What do you think, boys? Should we go and get hot chocolate with Mr. Malfoy and Scorpius?" The boys chorused their approval and the men laughed.

Potter looked good when he laughed, Draco thought. Pity he was straight… "No, stop that," Draco chided himself. "Straight or not, he's the bloody Saviour of the Wizarding World. He'd have no interest in you, not even if he were bent as an owl's claw."

They headed off to Fortesque's, and the men talked about Quidditch and compared notes on their sons. James continued to rampage around, Harry barely keeping him under control, and Draco could understand how his cloak came to be so haphazard. He stifled a grin. He contented himself with watching Harry's arse the whole way, unbeknownst to Harry.

When they were seated with their hot chocolate, the boys were cheerful, enjoying the special treat. Potter treated them all to fudge, as well, so Draco covered the hot chocolates. They chatted for a while, enjoying one another's company and occasionally tossing a few light-hearted barbs back and forth. It had all the fun but none of the sting of their exchanges at Hogwarts, and Draco enjoyed it far more than he should have done.

Afterwards they Apperated to the Manor, Harry and his boys Apperating outside the wards while Draco keyed them to let them in. Draco noticed when the coats and hats came off that James was a redhead, while Albus had inherited his father's untidy mop. He pulled out the new broom Astoria had sent and Jame's eyes grew as big as saucers.

The boys raced off to play, and Draco and Potter settled in to talk some more. Draco enjoyed regaling Harry with tales of being a Medi-Wizard, while Potter told a few harrowing stories about his work as an Auror. They each agreed that their respective careers suited them.

It was then, relaxed and feeling almost giddy with happiness that he and Harry – for Potter had insisted that he call him "Harry", and he'd insisted back that Harry calling him "Draco" – were finally getting on, that he made a faux pas.

"Where's the Weaselette, these days?" he asked casually, burning to know if Harry was usually on his own with their boys or if he had just lucked out.

Harry's face closed up. "She's on her honeymoon," he said. "She married Dean Thomas last week."

"Oh," said Draco awkwardly. He hadn't even remembered reading anywhere that the two had gotten divorced. Potter had done a good job of keeping it hushed up. "I'm sorry I didn't know…"

"It's alright."

"I'm divorced, too," put in Draco.

"What happened?" asked Harry, looking curious, then he flushed.

"It's alright," said Draco, correctly interpreting the flush. He shrugged. "I prefer the company of men," he glanced at Harry to gauge his reaction, but there was none. "It was an arranged marriage, so she was free to take up lovers, as was I, once we'd produced an heir. However, she fell in love with one of her suitors and left us."

Harry laughed, then explained hastily as Draco looked affronted. "That's nearly the same situation as me." Draco raised a brow. "Well, except for the bit about us taking lovers." He frowned. "At least, I didn't have any. But I like men. I like women too, I just… I also like men. And Ginny didn't approve. She was always accusing me of cheating on her. Even though I swore I never would – and I never did – but she was unfaithful, and used my being somewhat bent to justify it. She was also the one who was behind that whole mess with Skeeter and my past a few years ago." He shrugged. "It's all in the past, now."

Draco sympathized. It couldn't have been easy for Harry, who had married for love, unlike Draco. He felt a sort of admiration for the man sitting across from him, that he could speak so easily about something that must have been so painful to live through.

"Would you like to have dinner with me, Friday?" Harry asked casually.

Draco started. "Dinner?" he squeaked in a most un-Malfoyish manner. "With you?"

"Yes, dinner. With me." Harry looked amused. "I couldn't help noticing you checking out my arse the whole way to Fortesque's."

Draco blushed furiously, and tried to stammer an apology. Harry laughed. "I'm asking you on a date, Malfoy," he said, slowly. "Wanna have dinner with me?"

Draco recovered some of his composure. "Yes, Harry," he replied. "I think I'd like that very much."

Harry just smiled, and his eyes crinkled in the corners.


	2. Chapter 2 - The Date(s)

**Chapter Two:** The Date(s)

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter and Co. do not, will not, and never have belonged to me. J. K. Rowling is the one you're looking for. I just borrowed them, and I promise to put them back!

**Warnings:** Boy kisses. Sexual innuendo.

**A/N: ****_IMPORTANT!_**PLEASE READ! There is a smutty second part to this chapter. However since most of the people who favourited this did so while it had a T rating, I didn't want to suddenly increase that. So, I'm posting the second part as a lemon. If you want it look in my stories under my profile, or review or PM me letting me know and I'll send you the link. :) Mmmk?

* * *

Draco and Harry compared notes and realised their work schedules were similar. This pleased Draco far more than it ought to have done. They ended spending most of their free time together for the remainder of the week, using the boys' desire to play together again as an excuse to see one another.

Their boys loved each other, and were fast becoming great friends. Draco revelled in the knowledge that it was healthy for Scorpius to finally have playmates his own age. He loved to watch his son running around with Albus while James flew overhead. He was most excited about Scorpius' starter broom, which was wrapped and awaiting Christmas morning.

And Harry. Harry was always there; viridian eyes smoldering, black hair wild, dressed in muggle clothes with those delicious arms and an arse you could bounce a knut off of.

Draco was rather breathless from the whirlwind romance he seemed to be caught up in. No, he and Harry had not moved beyond significant looks, subtle (or in Harry's case, not-so-subtle) flirtations, and light touches on the arm, the shoulder, the brushing of hands and the light sweeping away of hair from the eyes. Nevertheless, there was something raw between them; something primal that boiled and simmered just below the surface, and Draco found himself anticipating Friday night with an exquisite degree of impatience.

Friday dawned bright and clear, and the day seemed to drag. Every patient he had to see was tiring; every healer he interacted with tried his patience. He was by turns elated and genial, and grumpy and moody. The staff quickly realized it was simply best to stay out of his way and let him simmer in his own juices.

Finally, finally his shift was done, and he floo'ed home, anxious for the evening. He'd seen Harry every day since Monday; once their respective shifts were done Harry had brought his boys over to play with Scorpius until bedtime. However, this was different. This was the two of them, alone, childless, with nothing to hamper the desire that rolled and boiled between them like a potion left to simmer too long.

Draco took his time in the shower, allowing himself a leisurely wank to his new favourite fantasy, which involved green eyes and disorderly black hair and a very talented red mouth. Afterwards he toweled himself off, standing in front of his wardrobe, thinking deeply. He chose his attire carefully.

He wore silver robes made from a soft, velvety material; which made his eyes look especially mercurial, trimmed with white. Underneath he wore a simple white shirt and a pair of matching silver trousers, cut from the same cloth as his robes. The material was just thin enough and tight enough to accentuate his assets and show his figure to fine display. He wore grey dragonhide boots that had a sheen to them that accentuated the silvery aspect of his attire. With his white-blond hair perfectly coiffed and styled, he was a silvery-white dream.

He then went downstairs to play with Scorpius until Harry arrived.

Harry was late. As it turned out, Scorpius went to bed before Harry arrived. While Draco didn't mind getting to tuck his son in, he caught himself staring at the clock and having panicked thoughts that this whole thing had been some elaborate revenge for their childhood rivalry. But Harry arrived, looking out of breath and lovely and utterly, completely shaggable in his black robes, trimmed with green. He wore a green jumper and black trousers. He wore his black dragonhide boots to complete the outfit.

It was the first time Draco had ever seen him in wizarding attire since school, and he had to admit it suited him so well Draco's throat was going dry. His robes, like Draco's, were designed to show off his body to full advantage. His hair was windswept and disheveled, his cheeks tinged with red and his mouth red and all but panting from exertion. He swallowed, and his adam's apple bobbed deliciously. His viridian eyes practically glowed.

"I'm sorry I'm so late, Draco," he offered an apologetic smile, and Draco couldn't be angry, not in the face of all that gorgeousness. "I got held up at work." He shivered slightly.

"You don't have a cloak," Draco noted.  
"Ah, I was in a hurry, and forgot it." Harry flushed, his cheeks going redder.

Draco smiled to himself. "Borrow one of mine, then," he offered. "It's too cold to be without one right now." He stepped aside, motioning Harry through the door.

He grabbed two black cloaks from the closet in the hall, and passed one to Harry, who donned it swiftly and gratefully.

Harry took Draco's arm and they apparated to a wizarding restaurant near Diagon Alley; The Midnight Rose, which was a place for sophisticated dining. It was a little too pretentious for Harry's taste, but he thought Draco might like it. He had dropped his name to get them a reservation, and he flushed at the memory. Draco was suitably impressed.

Dinner with Harry was lovely. They talked all evening about a wide variety of subjects, and enjoyed the cuisine. Their silences were companionable, and often filled with more smoldering looks.

Draco ordered Pasta Alla Norma, and Poireaux Braises on the side. Harry was confused by the French names of the various dishes and asked Draco for translations. He explained the eggplant pasta dish, and the braised leeks, and Harry simply opted to order the same thing. He left the ordering to Draco, who also ordered them a white Zinfandel to go with their meal.

He swirled the wine in his glass and tasted it, pronouncing it acceptable. Harry smiled at him, and the heat in Harry's gaze made him blush. Apparently Harry liked the way he looked when he tasted wine. Or something. He wasn't exactly sure what had attracted it; just that Harry was giving him a look that went straight to his groin. Draco had high hopes for after dinner.

"So," he cleared his throat. "You support the Kestrals?"

"I mentioned that on Monday," Harry chuckled. "Are you still so shocked?"

"I admit, it's not as ridiculous as supporting the Cannons," Draco admitted, earning a snort from Harry. "But still; the Kestrals, Harry?"

Harry laughed, a clear, ringing sound that made Draco's chest swell. "At least I didn't go all mainstream and support Puddlemere U.," he teased.

Draco resisted the urge to stick his tongue out. Malfoys did _not_ stick their tongues out. Instead he settled for a dignified huff and a sharp look, and the comment, "I did _not _go all mainstream. Malfoys don't do mainstream." Harry laughed at him again.

"So," said Draco casually, but it had been bothering him all evening, "You said you got held up at work. Nothing serious, I trust?" He couldn't help noticing Harry had been favouring his left side all night.

Harry flushed. "Actually I ended up in a chase and got injured. Had to go to St. Mungo's for a bit. I was kind of wondering if we'd run into each other there." He looked sheepish. "I end up there a fair bit. I'm surprised we hadn't met there before."

Draco flushed. "I tend to treat children, rather than victims of spell damage, Harry," he said. He shrugged at Harry's raised brow. "Children don't judge. They see the mark and all they see is a funny snake tattoo."

Harry smiled.

At the end of the evening, Harry saw him home. Standing outside the Manor, he asked rather breathlessly, "Will you come in for a drink?"

"No," Harry shook his head. "I should be getting home to my boys. Luna will be wanting to go home, as well."

Draco was disappointed, but at least Harry looked somewhat regretful. He leaned in close, and Draco closed his eyes in preparation for the kiss that was coming.

Harry brushed the barest of chaste kisses to Draco's cheek… and was gone.

Just like that, with a soft touch of lips to cheek, a whispered, "Goodnight, Draco," and he disapparated.

Draco felt cheated. He comforted himself that their first kiss couldn't be too far off, but he didn't hear from Harry again. He waited for a firecall, or an owl that never came.

Draco was going crazy. After three days of torture he finally left work early, went down to the ministry, waited for Harry to finish work, cornered him, and asked him outright what was going on.

"Uhm," said Harry. "I meant to owl you. I really did. I just didn't… I didn't want to seem presumptuous."

Draco stared. "Merlin's lacy knickers, Harry," he said. "I didn't even get a good night kiss and you're worried about coming across as presumptuous?"

"Uhm," said Harry. "About that…"

"For Salazar's sake, Harry, it's not like you're some blushing virgin!"

"Well, no," Harry flushed. "Two kids, remember?"

"Exactly, and your ex-wife left you over a year ago, so it's not like you're completely inexperienced with men, either," continued Draco, who stopped when Harry turned a rather unnatural shade of red.

"I never really had the chance," he explained, flustered.

Draco stared. "You're Harry bloody Potter!"

"Well, there was no one I was interested in!" protested Harry, still bright red, and Draco's heart warmed just a little. "I wanted to take things slow," he added, giving Draco a beseeching look. "I'm nervous, okay?"

Draco smiled. "I understand, Harry. Really, I do."

"I don't want a fling." Harry said softly. "I wasn't sure how to talk about it, so I guess it's just better to say it outright. I want a relationship. Something that will last. And I want to move slowly, because I don't want to fuck it up."

Draco was still smiling. "Harry, I wouldn't let you around my son if I didn't want a relationship with you." Harry relaxed. "And I completely understand about wanting to move slowly. I do. And I'll wait. But surely a little kiss isn't –"

"It is if I'm afraid I wouldn't be able to stop," Harry blurted, then looked even more mortified at the slip. Draco felt inordinately pleased.

"Why Harry," he purred. "Am I really so irresistible?" He moved in closer, and Harry tried to back up and failed, already being against the wall. He was almost driven to distraction by the scent of Harry; spicy, musky, and so very uniquely Harry that it made his blood boil.

"Yes," Harry admitted, cheeks flaming. "You're very irresistible."

Draco smirked as Harry nervously licked his lips, his glance unconsciously going towards Draco's mouth.

Draco slowly, sensuously drew his tongue across his lips. Harry licked his lips again, unconsciously mimicking Draco. Oh yes, Harry wanted him. That was clear. But Harry wanted to hold off on the physical side of their relationship. That was fine with Draco – so long as he didn't hold off _too_ long.

It had been a while since Draco had last taken a lover, and he could feel the need gnawing within him like a raging beast. But he wanted Harry; wanted him badly enough to wait for him.

So wait he did.

He waited while they continued to meet up on a near-daily basis with their children, and while they continued to meet Friday nights for dinner, dancing, and any number of other pursuits. After a month and a half, Harry still had yet to kiss him and Draco was beginning to worry about how slow Harry was intending to take their relationship.

Then Harry informed him that he and the kids wouldn't be coming over again for a little while. "Ginny's turn with the boys," he explained. She'd taken a good two months off for her honeymoon, because apparently, when your divorce settlement from the Saviour of the Wizarding World includes a hefty stipend in exchange for your silence on his personal matters, you can afford things like that.

Draco's worry began to turn to full-blown panic. After all, if Harry was moving this slowly after a month and a half of seeing each other nearly every day, how slow would he move once their visits became more infrequent?

After a week of not seeing each other, Harry took him back out to the Midnight Rose again. Draco enjoyed it, just as he had the first time, but Harry's whole demeanor was slightly unnerving. In a good way. It was just that if Harry didn't stop eye-fucking him across the table he might just come in his pants, right there in the restaurant.

"Stop that," he hissed at Harry.

"Stop what?"

"Looking at me."

"I'm not supposed to look at my date?" Harry's voice feigned innocence, his eyes still smoldering.

"Not… like that. Stop looking at me like that."

"Like what?"

"Like something you don't intend to follow through on."

"Who says I don't intend to?" Draco's pulse sped up just a little when Harry said that.

"You did."

"Did I?"

"Yes. Quite clearly."

Harry pursed his lips. "I seem to remember the conversation differently."

Draco tore his gaze away from Harry's lips and growled. "Why are you doing this?" he bit out. He was being driven to distraction and was quite sure he was going to die of sexual frustration. And it was all Harry's fault.

"Because I missed you," the brunet replied, and _oh_, now Draco remembered why he was putting up with this. He smiled at Harry, realising suddenly that he was falling for this man; this man whom he'd never even kissed. That a part of him had always been infatuated with Harry Potter, but now he was truly falling in love with him. The revelation frightened him less than it should have.

After dinner, Harry saw him back to his door, as he always did. He seemed different tonight; oddly twitchy. Knowing Harry there was something he wanted to say but hadn't quite worked out to say it yet. But as Draco leaned forward for his customary kiss on the cheek, Harry surprised him.

He took Draco's head gently in between his hands and kissed him soundly on the lips.

For a moment Draco was too surprised to react, then he registered that Harry was kissing him, and he reacted quite enthusiastically. Never had Draco had a first kiss like that.

There weren't just fireworks, there was a whole pyrotechnics show. Harry's lips were warm and soft and pliant and oh _god_, he tasted just like he smelled, and even better than Draco had imagined.

Their lips moved together gently, chastely, almost reverently, and Draco moaned from the sheer headiness of it. That moan elicited quite the reaction from Harry. He kissed Draco harder, with more force, a bruising kiss that enveloped all the passion and eye-sex they'd been having for the entire length of their relationship. It was a kiss that gave and took in equal measure, without asking. It was a kiss that promised more.

* * *

**A/N:** If the link works, here's the smut. w w w DOT fanfiction DOT net /s/9453118/1/A-Day-Out-In-Diagon-Lemon-Sequel


End file.
